In the few weeks that had passed, not many changes happened in the Wu Gong's medical center. He Chun and the twins busied themselves with the never ending flow of the incoming patients while Lu Wen and Fan Ling were completely immersed in picking up men and women according to Xia Lian's instructions.
Inside a plain wooden room, Xia Lian sat on the floor while stacks of paper lay by her side. Her hair was combed into a neat bun, while a few strands of wild locks traced her fair neck. Her sleeves were rolled up revealing her slim arms; while one hand rested on the study table the other hand held the wooden brush in a death grip. Squinting her eyebrows, Xia Lian dipped the brush in the ink and finished filling up yet another paper with a series of words.
Her calligraphy was nowhere appealing to the eye, it did not contain the elegance and neatness. Her strokes were bold and unruly, displaying her unprecedented intelligence.
